GIFT  OF 


QUATRAINS 
OF  CHRIST 

BY  GEORGE  CREEL 

PREFACE  BY  JULIAN  HAWTHORNE 


PAUL  ELDER  «•  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  *  SAN  FRANCISCO 


Bend  on  this  wonder  world  a 
clearer  eye, 

Hark  closer  to  the  soul's  pro- 
phetic cry, 

Thrill  with  the  happy  song 
of  growing  things, 

And  read  the  promise  of  the 
star-set  sky. 

C 

Copyright,  1907,  by 
George  Creel 

Copyright,  1908,  by 
Paul  Elder  and  Company 


TO  MY  MOTHER 

WHOSE  TENDER  LOVE  AND 

INSPIRING  COMPANIONSHIP  HAVE 

BEEN  EVER  PRESENT 

PROOFS  OF  GOD'S 

GOODNESS 


PREFACE 

IT  IS  strange  that  the  Chris- 
tian world  should  have  been 
in  need  of  exactly  such  a  book 
as  this, — that  after  nineteen 
hundred  years  of  Christianity 
we  should  lack  a  simple  and  straight- 
forward reaffirmation  of  the  truth  of  the 
Christian  faith.  Christ  has  been  much 
patronized  of  late, —  has  been  coupled 
in  a  sentence  with  Buddha  and  Con- 
fucius and  other  alleged  saints  and 
Messiahs  of  the  past ;  but  a  man  has 
been  wanting  to  say  that  he  is  nothing 
less  than  God  in  the  flesh, —  Son  of  God 
as  well  as  Son  of  man, —  the  Lord  In- 
carnate, come  to  redeem  us  from  our 
sins.  Mr.  George  Creel  comes  forward 
to  supply  this  deficiency;  there  is  no 
evasion  or  compromise  in  his  speech  on 
the  subject ;  his  is  the  faith  of  the  Early 
Christians,  before  the  sectarians  got  to 
work  on  the  plain-spoken,  sublime  rec- 
ords of  the  Divine  Life  on  earth;  he 
leaves  scepticism  on  one  side,  and  phil- 
osophy and  the  Higher  Criticism  on 
the  other,  and  makes  straight  for  his 
goal.  His  belief  and  testimony  are  as 
naif  as  that  of  a  little  child, —  except 
we  be  as  whom,  we  "  can  in  now  wise 
enter  into  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven." 
He  has  little  concern  with  arguments; 
he  appeals  to  the  interior  witness  of  the 
adoring  heart.  This  is  what  the  world 
needs,  and  no  part  of  the  world  so  much 
as  that  which  calls  itself  Christian. 
His  utterance  is  as  free  from  the  apolo- 
getic note  as  it  is  from  acerbity  and 


PREFACE 

browbeating.  He  has  felt  the  truth 
himself,  deep  down  in  his  soul,  and  he 
cannot  do  otherwise  than  give  it  forth 
with  all  his  soul  and  strength.  He 
speaks  not  in  contentiousness  but  in 
love.  The  living  waters  have  touched 
his  lips,  and  he  longs  to  have  others 
drink  as  he  has  drunk.  He  holds  up 
the  wonderful  and  radiant  story  before 
our  eyes,  and  summons  us  to  receive 
its  glad  tidings  with  worship  and  joy. 
The  Lord  has  come  down  to  earth; 
and  through  his  lineaments,  which  we 
have  mocked  and  disfigured,  the  light 
of  His  divinity  shines  unquenchable; 
and  the  very  disfigurements  are  proof 
of  the  indwelling  and  emerging  Perfec- 
tion. 

More  than  a  thousand  years  after  the 
Crucifixion,  there  was  born  in  Nisha- 
pur,  in  the  Far  East,  a  gentle  but  cyni- 
cal soul  called  Omar  Khayyam.  His 
experience  of  life  distilled  itself  in  a 
sort  of  kindly  pessimism,  and  was  em- 
bodied in  a  series  of  quatrains  which 
lived  their  day  and  were  forgotten, 
until,  fifty  years  ago,  an  Irishman  of 
kindred  culture  and  temperament  trans- 
lated and  remoulded  some  of  them  into 
a  subtle  and  musical  poem  which  em- 
bodied the  eloquent  philosophic  despair 
of  the  last  century.  But  it  was  not  till 
long  after  Edward  FitzGerald's  death 
that  the  genius  of  an  American  artist, 
Elihu  Veddar,  gave  his  verses  fame 
and  wide  recognition.  The  Englished 
Rubaiyat  has  ever  since  been  conspic- 
uous on  the  drawing-room  table  of 


PREFACE 

culture  here  and  in  England,  and  senti- 
mental women  and  self-indulgent  men 
have  echoed  his  stanzas  whenever  the 
roses  of  their  hopes  faded,  or  the  pallor 
of  their  existence  needed  wine.  "In 
the  fire  of  spring,"  they  murmur,  "y°ur 
winter  garment  of  repentance  fling"; 
adding  that  "The  bird  of  life  has  but 
a  little  way  to  flutter — and  the  bird  is 
on  the  wing ! "  It  is  a  seductive  strain, 
tending  to  disintegrate  moral  fibre,  and 
by  its  attractive  expression  of  a  certain 
indolence  of  the  modern  mind,  has  per- 
haps done  a  good  deal  to  discourage 
whatever  remnants  of  virility  were  left 
in  contemporary  religious  thought. 

Mr.  George  Creel  was  therefore  well 
inspired  to  attack  the  enemy  on  his 
own  ground,  and  to  fight  him  with  his 
own  weapon.  The  Quatrains  of  Christ 
are,  in  form,  the  Rubaiyat  of  Omar 
over  again ;  but  save  that  they  are  full 
of  veritable  poetry,  they  are  as  differ- 
ent from  them  in  purpose  and  issue  as 
light  is  different  from  shadow.  They 
are  informed  with  the  beautiful  whole- 
someness  of  youth,  reverence  and  can- 
dor; and  they  seem  to  avenge  us  of 
the  old  adage  that  the  Devil  has  all  the 
good  tunes,  by  embodying  in  the  very 
lilt  and  measure  of  disbelief  the  fra- 
grance and  beauty  of  true  doctrine. 
There  is  not  throughout  the  entire  little 
volume  one  moment  of  nasal  psalm- 
singing  and  unctuous  exhortation  ;  but 
there  is  not  a  verse  in  it,  either,  that 
is  not  joyfully  religious  through  and 
through,  and  that  does  not  convey  an 


PREFACE 

enthusiasm  of  conviction  that  is  both 
instructive  and  contagious.  Page  after 
page  is  as  though  we  were  listening 
to  Sir  Galahad,  pure  in  heart,  as  he 
sang  in  the  forest,  riding  on  his  quest 
for  the  Holy  Grail.  And  ever  and  anon 
the  singer  chants  forth  an  actual  phrase 
or  figure  from  Old  Omar,  as  though  a 
new  Moses  were  to  transform  the  rods 
of  Pharaoh's  enchanters  into  hostile 
serpents  to  devour  them.  If  humor 
were  predicable  of  a  poem  so  serious 
and  vital  in  purpose  as  this,  I  should  be 
disposed  to  think  there  was  humor  in 
these  passages. 

The  interest  in  Creel's  production, 
unlike  Omar's  or  FitzGerald's,  is  con- 
tinuous from  page  to  page,  instead  of 
being  confined  to  separate  passages ;  so 
that  though  there  is  not,  in  strictness, 
either  argument  or  narrative,  there  is  a 
distinct  thread  of  purpose  and  senti- 
ment from  end  to  end,  which  we  follow 
with  accumulating  appreciation.  The 
poet  has  read  his  Gospels  with  awak- 
ened and  living  insight ;  he  has  forgot- 
ten the  commentators  and  the  critics, 
and  gives  us  the  freshness  and  sweet- 
ness of  the  original  story.  He  has  kept  it 
in  his  heart,  and  let  it  grow  and  fructify- 
there.  He  has  pondered  longingly  over 
the  silence  of  the  Gospel  narratives  as  to 
the  early  boyhood  of  the  Saviour: — 

"Did  Mary's  arms  turn  childish  griefs  to 

bliss  ? 
Or  did  His  holy  mission  make  Him  miss 

The  happiness  of  youth's  abandoning^, 
The  magic  solace  of  a  mother's  kiss  ?  " 


PREFACE 

But  he  will  not  repine  because  no  an- 
swer is  returned  to  his  listening  ear. 
The  loving  heart  can  surmise  truths 
which  history  dare  not  disclose ;  and  he 
will  listen  to  his  heart, — 

"  *  *  *  for  as  we  sec 

A  child,  locked  in ,  leap  up  when  It  may  be 
The  watched-for,  longed-for  loved  one 

comes  at  last, 

So  does  it  leap,  O  Lord,  to  welcome 
the« ! " 

And  it  suffices  to  be  assured  that  the 
Divine  mission  was  fulfilled: — 

"  The  worm  within  each  rose's  heart  was 

curled 

Until  Thy  mystic  might  at  Nain  hurled 
Death's  menace  back  upon  itself  and 

stilled 
The  immemorial  wailing  of  the  world." 

I  must  remember  that  I  am  writing 
not  a  review  but  a  preface;  but  what  I 
have  instanced  will  not  forestall  the 
reader's  pleasure  or  his  interest.  He 
will  read  this  little  book  not  once  nor 
twice  only,  but  will  make  it  his  own.  It 
is  a  new  thing  in  literature;  but  its 
appeal  is  to  something  deeper  in  man 
than  the  literary  sense ;  it  deals  with  an 
immortal  theme,  and  shines  with  the 
reflection  of  the  joyful  dignity  thereof. 

JULIAN  HAWTHORNE. 


QUATRAINS 


OF 


CHRIST 


GOME,  strike  thy  harp's  most 
high,  exultant  string, 
Until  its  golden  ecstasy 
shall  ring 
To  very  Heaven  :  thence  flaming 

down  the  dark, 

Shall  thrill  dead  souls  to  new,  sweet 
blossoming. 


"GAIN  a  Star  dawns  in  the 

Eastern  sky, 
Again  the  startled  shepherd 

lifts  his  cry, 
As   waking   from   his  midnight 

sleep,  he  sees 

The  camels  of  the  Wise  Men  sweep- 
ing by. 


HE  yearshave  worked  their 

measure  of  decay. 
Where  is  the  inn  or  stable? 

Who  can  say, 

This  is  the  spot,"  or  "There  the 
very  place 

Where  Lord  Christ  came  into  the 
light  of  day"? 


QUATRAINS 

OF 

CHRIST 


QO  MORE  chants  Caiaphas 
his  vengeful  song, 
And  scattered  to  the  wind 
is  all  the  throng 
That  clamored  for  Barabbas,only 

held 

In    memory  by  reason    of  their 
wrong. 


HE  weak-souled  Pilate  long 

has  passed  away, 
Great  Caesar,  too,  is  now 

obstructive  clay, 
Their   mighty   Rome   forgotten 

save  as  theme 

To  keep  the  grumbling  schoolboy 
from  his  play. 


UT  still  the  sweet  of  frank- 

incense and  myrrh 
Steals  down  the  centuries, 

and  as  it  were 
But  yesterday,  so  sweet  and  new 

it  seems, 

Did  blessed  Mary  bear  the  Har- 
binger. 


QUATRAINS 


OF 


CHRIST 


UT  yesterday  that  through 

the  stable  gloom 
An  angel  shape,  with  droop- 

ing pity's  plume, 
Swept  beaded  anguish  from  the 

Virgin's  brow 

That  dewed  sin-arid  earth  to  vernal 
bloom. 


giv'st  to  each  a  price- 
less  diadem 
Of  precious  gifts,  but,  ah, 

the  fairest  gem 
Is  that  clear  faith,  O  God,  with 

which  we  shrine 
The  miracle  of  far-off  Bethlehem. 


*,  bless  us  so,  and  let  it 
never  be 
Like  tapestried   romance 

men  peer  to  see, 
Or  some  old  song  with  meaning 

half  forgot, 

That  drowsy  children  hear  at  grand- 
sire's  knee. 


QUATRAINS 


OF 


CHRIST 


'LWAYS  with  sense  of  viv- 

idness —  with  thrill 
Of  things  intensely  pres- 

ent —  may  we  still 
Remember  this:  that  human  flesh 

and  blood 
Were  chosen  to  exemplify  His  wilL 


us    from    Habifs 
poppied  charm,  and  let 
The  lotus-laden  flight  of 

Time  beget 
No  far-away,  faint  half-remem- 

berings, 

No  spectral  shadowing  or  silhou- 
ette. 


'HRINK  not,  but  draw  in 
wide-eyed  wonder  near 
Each   incident  in  all  the 

Christ  career  — 
From  birth  to  cross  there  were 

no  veils  or  walls, 

And  nearer  makes  it  dearer  and 
more  clear. 


CHRIST 


O  VIRGIN,  were  thy  young 
eyes  unafraid, 
Or  didst  thou  shrink,  sore 
startled  and  dismayed, 
From  that  first  mystic  thrill  when 

thou  didst  learn 

God's  precious  Burden  had  on  thee 
been  laid  ? 


HOUD    sang    the    golden- 
throated  Cherubim, 
And  all  the  wheeling  hosts 
of  Seraphim, 
Whose  flashing  pinions  ermined 

humble  thatch, 

And  shot  with  fire  the  Heaven's 
sapphire  rim. 


must  have  been  thy 
happy,  sweet  amaze 
To  see  the  sudden  aureate 

halo  blaze, 
And  from  the  wide-flung  gates 

of  Paradise 

Hear  mighty  harmonies  of  joyous 
praise. 


QUATRAINS 


CHRIST 


HLWAYS  with  sense  of  viv- 
idness —  with  thrill 
Of  things  intensely  pres- 
ent —  may  we  still 
Remember  this:  that  human  flesh 

and  blood 
Were  chosen  to  exemplify  His  wilL 


us    from    Habifs 
poppied  charm,  and  let 
The  lotus-laden  flight  of 

Time  beget 
No  far-away,  faint  half-remem- 

berings, 

No  spectral  shadowing  or  silhou- 
ette. 


'HRINK  not,  but  draw  in 
wide-eyed  wonder  near 
Each   incident  in  all  the 

Christ  career  — 
From  birth  to  cross  there  were 

no  veils  or  walls, 

And  nearer  makes  it  dearer  and 
more  clear. 


CHRIST 


O  VIRGIN,  were  thy  young 
eyes  unafraid, 
Or  didst  thou  shrink,  sore 
startled  and  dismayed, 
From  that  first  mystic  thrill  when 

thou  didst  learn 

God's  precious  Burden  had  on  thee 
been  laid  ? 


HOUD    sang    the    golden- 
throated  Cherubim, 
And  all  the  wheeling  hosts 
of  Seraphim, 
Whose  flashing  pinions  ermined 

humble  thatch, 

And  shot  with  fire  the  Heaven's 
sapphire  rim. 


must  have  been  thy 
happy,  sweet  amaze 
To  see  the  sudden  aureate 

halo  blaze, 
And  from  the  wide-flung  gates 

of  Paradise 

Hear  mighty  harmonies  of  joyous 
praise. 


QUATRAINS 


OF 


CHRIST 


iREsweetif  knowledge 
bridged  the  gap  between 
Christ's  manger  cradle  and 

that  later  scene  — 
Companioned  by  the  elders,  gray 

and  grim  — 

Full-blossomed  youth  in  favor  and 
in  mien. 


OID  laughter  bubble  as  He 
leapt  and  ran  ? 
Was  He  as  others  ere  His 
work  began 
Of  lifting  from  the  World  its  dole 

of  doubt, 

And   making    straight    Salvation's 
tender  plan  ? 


OR  WAS  there  hint  of  Pi- 
late's  fell  decree, 
The  lonely  horror  of  Geth- 
semane, 

A  prescience  of  thorny  diadem, 
Or  shadow  from  the  hill  of  Cal- 
vary? 


QUATRAINS 


CHRIST 


OID  Mary's  arms  turn  child- 
ish griefs  to  bliss  ? 
Or  did  His  holy  mission 
make  Him  miss 
The  happiness  of  youth's  aban- 

donings, 

The  magic  solace  of  a  mother's 
kiss? 


HOR,  given  then  the  secret 
of  those  years, 
Long  lapse  of  stripling  days 
undamped  with  tears, 
I  could  come  nearer  to  Him,  and 

athrill, 

Be  quit  forever  of  my  awes  and 
fears. 


DAY,  Lord,  let  this  not  give 
offense  to  Thee, 
For  if  a  passion  for  sheer 
nearness  be 
Aroused  by  those  of  earth,  then 

how  much  more 

When  Thou  art  loved  in  such  su- 
perb degree. 


QUATRAINS 


'ERE  thought  of  Thee  doth 

pour  into  my  veins 
A  leaping  flame  that  burns 

the  sullen  stains 
Of  sin  from  out  the  broidered 

Cloth  of  Life, 

Till  the  fair  fabric  white  and  gold 
remains. 

*  XXIII  * 

'HE  marvel  blaze  that  blind- 
ed raging  Saul, 
And  held   black  Herod's 
savage  soul  in  thrall  — 
That  swept  from  Mary  all  her 

silks  and  shame 

And   ashed  the   splendor  of   her 
onyxed  hall. 


nOW  doth  it  rapture  fancy 
and  enchain 
Belief  and  love  to  marshal 
once  again 
The  great,  kaleidoscopic  surge  of 

men 

Who  felt  that  flame  and  followed 
in  His  train. 


QUATRAINS 


OF 


CHRIST 


ETHINK  you  of  this  fol- 

lowing !   No  part 
Gave   all,  nor  class  —  as 
mountain  torrents  start 
In  spring,  they  poured  from  pal- 

ace, tent  and  cot, 

From  sea  and  field,  the  desert  and 
the  mart. 


HIERCE  Syrians,  swart  Pu- 
nic chiefs,  and  bands 
Of  blacks,  grim  Romans 
who  in  many  lands 
Had  seen  strange  gods,  Egyp- 

tians, fire-eyed  Gauls, 
Pale  Greeks,  and  nomads  yellowed 
with  far  sands. 

*  XXVII* 

'O  HUGELYgreat  the  num- 

ber, none  can  tell 
How  many  died  in  circus 

or  in  cell 
For  Him  who  was  of  their  own 

day  —  and  still 

We  yield  to  Controversy's  wasting 
spell! 


QUATRAINS 


CHRIST 


*  XXVIII* 

">^^y  OR  Him  who  was  of  their 
I^f       own  day ! "   Ah,  there 
I[\  We  have  a  sword,  all  rea- 
-^   """"^      son-forged,  to  wear 
And  wield  in  swirling  splendor 

when  against 

The  Powers  of  the  Dark  we  do  and 
dare. 


XTS  hilt  star-studded  by  the 
mad  array 
Of  gems   that  ransomed 
Mary  threw  away, 
The  flaming,  ravished  jewels  that 

were  Saul's 

When  stricken  cities  knew  his  ruth- 
less sway. 


'ND  witnesses!   Ah,  there 

was  Pilate's  wife 
Who  pleaded  for  the  Gali- 

lean's life, 
And  tiger-hearted  Herod,  over- 

awed, 

Refused  Christ  Jesus  to  the  heads- 
man's knife. 


QUATRAINS 


CHRIST 


,  MARTYRS'  blood  cas- 

cades  from  ev'ry  page 
Of  history,  and  Nero's  de- 

mon  rage 
Still  chills  the  heart  —  then  shall 

our  voices  rise, 

And  futile  argument  our  minds  en- 
gage? 

*  XXXII* 

'S  HOMING  birds  flee  from 

the  darkling  West, 
As  babes  with  thrusting 
lips  seek  mother  breast, 
So  do  I  turn  to  Thee,  thou  tender 

Christ, 

My  tear-scorched  eyes  asmile,  my 
doubts  at  rest. 


IN  LOVING  Thee  I  seek 
not  Logic's  aid, 
Nor  do  I  ever  ask  to  have 
displayed 
Disrupted    Science's   confusing 

page, 

O'er  writ    with    guesses    restless 
minds  have  made. 


QUATRAINS 


OF 


CHRIST 


XXXIV* 

UT  listen  to  my  heart,  for 

as  we  see 
A  child,  locked  in,  leap  up 

when  it  may  be 
The  watched-for,  longed-for  loved 

one  comes  at  last, 
So  does  it  leap,  O  Lord,  to  welcome 
Thee. 


'EN  sing  of  that  they  love, 

and  so  have  sung 
In  many  ways  since  first 

the  earth  was  young, 
So  shall  I  then,  in  simple  fashion, 

ease 

A  heart  by  lack  of  full  confession 
wrung. 

*  XXXVI* 

1MPLICITY!     No    other 

way  is  clear 
That  may,  at  end  of  all, 

bring  pilgrims  near 
To  Thee,  O  one  white  Flower 

swaying  fair 

Amid  the  blighted  blooms  of  yester- 
year. 


QUATRAINS 


OF 


CHRIST 


QOR   worship    where    pale 
priestesses  supine 
All   bloodily  adore   some 
midnight  shrine, 
No  mystic  murmurings  or  stran- 

gled scream, 

But  sound  of  singing   brook  and 
whispering  pine. 


must  the  flame-eyed 
muse  now  strip,  abashed, 
Of  flowing,  purpled  splen- 

dors,  jewel-splashed, 
And  take  the  narrow  path  in 

cooling  white, 

Her  hair  the  maiden's  way,  and  lily 
sashed. 


CHRIST 


XXXIX 


Alexander's   steel 
with  all  its  stains? 
Attila'smacethatcrumbled 

haughty  reigns  ? 
Alaric's  lance  or  Soldan's  scimi- 

tar? 

The  Savior's  fadeless  palm  alone 
remains. 


O  PRINCE  of   Peace,  Thy 
argent  temple  yields 
Far  richer  spoils  than  e'er 
were  brought  on  shields 
From  sack  of  Lydian  metropolis, 
Or  plundering  of  prostrate  Persia's 
fields. 


ancient    chains    that 
weighed  a  people  down, 
Oppression's  dripping 
sword,  the  prison  gown 
Of  Opportunity,  Injustice's  red 

scourge, 

And  Tyranny's  once  awe-inspiring 
crown. 


CHRIST 


'ND  over  all,  like  Paradisal 

snow, 
The  petals  of  Life's  roses 

drift  and  glow  — 
The  thorns  turned  pointless  in 

Thy  heart  of  hearts, 
The  blossom  for  Thy  brothers  here 
below. 


wind  that  moaned  an 
ancient  pain  away 
Was  soothed  of  all  its  sobs 

and  sick  dismay  — 
Thou  gav'st  new  courage  to  the 

coward  dawn 

And  glad  triumphant  guidons  to  the 
day. 


HOR  fevered  living,  fret  and 
pain  the  price, 
Until  the  oil  of  Thy  dear 
sacrifice 
Assuaged,  and  smoothed  a  hal- 

cyon expanse 
To  mirror  the  allure  of  Paradise. 


QUATRAINS 


OF 


CHRIST 


HE  worm  within  each  rose's 

heart  was  curled, 
Until  Thy  mystic  might  at 

Nain  hurled 
Death's  menace  back  upon  itself 

and  stilled 

The    immemorial   wailing   of   the 
world. 


'AYHAP,  when  Twilight's 

sombre  hosts  parade, 
That  Terror's   tears  will 
hail  the  hasting  Shade  — 
Believe  it  ancient  weakness  of  the 

flesh  — 

My  soul  awaits  Thy  call  all  un- 
afraid. 


UT  will  Thou  not  be  tender 

of  this  fear, 
As  mothers  comfort  when 

the  dark  is  near, 
And  while  I  huddle  in  the  haunted 

gloom, 

Throw  wide  the  gate,  and  let  Thy 
light  appear. 


QUATRAINS 

CHRIST 


IS  IT  too  much  to  ask,  or 
will  Thy  wrath 
Be  kindled  by  the  creeping 
doubt  that  hath 
Its  way  with  flesh  ?   Ah,  no,  the 

dying  thief 

Was  fearful  too,  and  Thou  didst 
blaze  his  path. 


'ND  as  I,  kneeling,  breathe 

my  silent  prayer, 
When  weak  of  heart  or 
weighted  with  despair, 
I  think  of  how  the  faithful  Simon 

once 

Did  help  Thee,  weary  Christ,  Thy 
cross  to  bear. 


O  CRUEL    cross   and   Cal- 
vary's wild  stress  ! 
A  crown  of  thorns,  a  clos- 
ing tomb,  the  press 
Of  traitor  lips  —  what  sorry  gifts 

indeed 

To  counterpoise  unpurchased  hap- 
piness ! 


QUATRAINS 


OF 


CHRIST 


UT  it  is  done!  The  strange 

exchange  is  made ! 
Salvation  is  for  all,  the  price 

is  paid  — 
So  let  us,  shriven  and  consoled, 

abide 

In  meek  acceptance  of  the  gracious 
trade. 


DOT  thoughtless  joy,  nor  yet 
the  thoughtless  tear, 
Not   brazen   forwardness 
nor  shrinking  fear, 
But  aye  serene  in  perfect  con- 

fidence 

Of  marshalled  love  and  mercy  ever 
near. 


was  Thy  disappoint- 
ment  with  its  tears, 
But  one  finds  not  that  any- 

w^here  appears 
Grim  Melancholy  as  Thy  chosen 

friend, 

Or  sordid  Gloom  as  master  of  Thy 
years. 


QUATRAINS 


OF 


CHRIST 


'O  LET  us  never  be  afraid 

to  rise 
In    sure    aloofness    from 

among  the  eyes 
That  shut  to  light  and  beauty, 

and  all  blind, 

Invoke  a  broken  Christ  with  sobs 
and  sighs. 


oft  must  Thou  have 
paused  in  greening  dale, 
And,    seeing     soul-white 
blossoms  grow  less  pale 
Beneath  a  young  sun's  shy  caress, 

thrilled  deep, 

And  prayed  of  God  that  loveliness 
prevail. 


'ARTH  heard  and  hid  her 
scars  at  Thy  command, 
Threw  viny  mantles  o'er 

the  unrich  land, 
Flung  flowers  to  the  waste,  and 

palms  and  springs 
Companioned  to  redeem  the  desert's 
sand. 


QUATRAINS 


CHRIST 


^  —  B^ND,  O  love  exquisite  !  Thou 
Br  -  1       hast  the  rose, 
^       |   The  swaying  fragrance  of 
*^  —  ^      the  garden  close, 

Stand    forth    as  fair,  renewing 

monuments, 
To  mark  where  clean  hearts  find  a 

brief  repose. 


OEAR  Nazarene,  Thou  art 
the  soul  and  source 
Of  all  true  joy.   I  will  my- 
self divorce 
From  gloom,  and  Death  shall  hear 

a  happy  song 

When   he   shall  reach  me  in   his 
sombre  course. 


'H,  SWEET  the  world  since 

to  Thy  tender  breast 
Thou    gathered    all    that 
darkened  and  oppressed, 
And  breathing  it  with  beauty  and 

delight 

Pursued  Thy  way  to  Calvary's  sad 
rest. 


CHRIST 


HAT  madness  then  to  seek 

what  He  hath  ta'en, 
To  lift  the  cup  of  bitter 

wine  and  drain 
Its  dregs,  or  grope  to  find  the 

crown  of  thorns, 
All  drunkenly  infatuate  with  pain. 


JET  Jesus,  never  let  me 
be  afraid 
To  sing  my  love  in  lilting 

strain,  nor  swayed 
By  such  as  have  no  heart  for 

happiness, 

And  build  their  altars  in  Golgotha's 
shade. 


IS  good  to  read  the  written 

tale  of  those 

Who  shared  His  triumphs 
and  condoled  His  woes, 
And  mark  the  joyousness  of  sim- 

ple faith 

That  lumes  the  rigor  of  the  gospel 
prose. 


QUATRAINS 


OF 


CHRIST 


better  if  their  words 
fell  soft  as  lace 
On  silken  breasts?  Or  that 

they  had  the  grace 
Of  sylvan  silhouettes?    A  finer 

mesh 

Would  not  enhance  Truth's  never- 
aging  face. 


'S  MOTHER  countries  send 

a  guarded  fire 
To  light  a  newland'saltars, 

O  Desire 
Of  all  the  World,  flame  in  sad 

souls  a  flare 

Of  faith  from  off  Thy  Pentecostal 
Pyre. 


QUATRAINS 


OF 


CHRIST 


nET  fools  with  much  pre- 
tense of  wisdom  scout 
The  News,  and  wag  their 
heads  in  owlish  doubt 
Of  great  Jehovah's  all-embracing 

scheme 

Because  there  is  a  Door  they  stand 
without. 


CONTENT  are  we,  the  chil- 
dren of  His  hand, 
To  watch  and  wait,  nor 
blatantly  demand, 
Assured  that  in  His  own  good 

time  He  will 

Unlock  the  Door,  and  let  us  under- 
stand. 


all  the  wonder  of  the 
world  before 
Our  eyes,  His  love  unfold  - 

ing  more  and  more, 
Shall  we  not  grasp  the  Miracle  of 

Life, 

Ere  thronging  fierce  and  clamant  at 
the  Door? 


QUATRAINS 


OP 


CHRIST 


I  HAVE  no  gift  to  see  be- 
yond the  years, 
But  when  repentance  came 
with  helpful  tears 
Dear  Faith  accompanied,  and  has 

remained 

To  guard  my  soul  against  recurring 
fears. 


much  of  rain  may  fall 
and1  rot  the  vine, 
A  drought  burn  bare  the 
field,  the  first-born  pine, 
Disaster  raze  the  House  of  Hap- 

piness — 

Small  things  to  match  against  the 
Plan  divine. 


sleeps  the  trusting 
soul  *°  s^^66*  content, 
Faith    marshaling    its 

dreams,  and  all  unrent 
By  warring  doubts  and  mad  un- 

rests, then  why 

Awake  and  plunge  it  into  vain  fer- 
ment? 


QUATRAINS 


OF 


CHRIST 


X^>^HAOS  first  reigned.    Did 
I        [        star  call  unto  star, 
^^    V    The  seas  select  their  beds, 
^-^*     and  from  afar 
The  worlds  assemble  to  assign 

their  swings, 

Or  did  a  Master  place  them  as  they 
are? 


aND  if  'twas  God  that  en- 
tered brooding  Space, 
And  gave  to  everything  a 
plan  and  place, 
Was  it  a  childish  game  He  stooped 

to  play, 

And,  having   played,  then  turned 
away  His  face  ? 


queenly  seasons,  flash  - 
ingly  arrayed, 
In  tuneful,  circumstantial 

pomp  parade, 
And    on    the    carpet-stretch   of 

splendid  days, 

The  varied  wonders  of  the  world 
are  laid. 


QUATRAINS 


OF 


CHRIST 


singing  soul's  insistent, 
yearning  strain 
Tells  immortality,  yet  are 

there  vain 
And  insolent  demands  for  guar- 

antee 

That  we   shall  come  to  live  and 
love  again. 


IS  of  His  wisdom  that  He 

does  not  set 
Ungrateful  doubts  at  rest, 

else  would  we  let 
Mad  passions  loose,  and  scornful 

of  this  life, 
Give  over  to  neglect  and  evil  fret 


HINK  you  that  He  who 

w^akes  the  vernal  seed 
From  where  it  sleeps  with 
death  beneath  the  mead, 
Will  coldly  let  His  imaged  chil- 

dren sink 

To  nothingness,  and  pay  no  further 
heed? 


QUATRAINS 

CHRIST 


ODAYwillYesterday'srare 

rose  entomb, 
Ah,  yes,  but  where  a  hint 

of  final  doom  ? 
Some  rest,  the  trumpet  call,  a 

judgment  passed, 
And  then  Tomorrow's  new  and 
richer  bloom. 


mad  pretense  it  is 
that  fails  to  hear 
The  symphonyof  suns,and 

shuts  the  ear 
When  through  the  joyous  lilt  of 

growing  things, 

The  testimony  of  the  sea  comes 
clear. 


to  the  singing  seed 
and  sap.  The  whole 
Of  nature  races  to  an  un- 

seen  goal, 
Where  God,  the  Master  of  the 

Games,  hath  hung 
The   high  incentive   of  a  human 
soul. 


CHRIST 


I  KNOW  that  many  are  the 
tales  they  tell 
Of  fearful  flames  in  an  en- 
during hell, 
But  ever  have  they  failed  to  ter- 

rify, 
So  powerful  Creation's  tender  spell. 


HE   Hand    that   wrought 
with  such  a  sure  intent, 
And  half  of  Heaven's 

hoarded  beauty  spent 
Upon    the    world,  could    never 

clench  to  strike, 

Or  hurl  a  sightless  soul  to  punish- 
ment 


M^^HE  message  of  a  day  is 
/    C\      altered  by 
%^     J  The  thoughts  of  those  that 
^^^       pass  it  on,  then  why 
Assume  God's  word  uncolored 

and  unchanged 
By  all  His  messengers  since  Sinai  ? 


QUATRAINS 


OP 


CHRIST 


Y  PATHS  of  peril,  agony 

and  shame, 
Past  coupled  menaces  of 

sword  and  flame, 
Through   wolf-fanged   centuries 

that  howled  their  hate  — 
'Twas  in  such  way  the  holy  message 
came. 


souls  who  suffered 
silently,  and  yet 
What  blame  to  them  if  all 

the  hate  they  met 
Bit  passion  deep,  and  charged 

their  carried  words 
With  less  of  gentleness  and  more 
of  threat? 


UT  let  it  pass.  This  night 

a  moon  shall  rise 
To  paint  a  pledge  of  peace 

upon  the  skies, 
And  with  the  splendor  of  the 

morning  come 
A  reassuring  sun  to  kiss  our  eyes. 


m 


QUATRAINS 


OF 


CHRIST 


west-  wind  Ariels  shall 


Earth's  chaliced  charm,  and 
quickened  by  the  shrill 
Sweet  bugles  of  the  dawn,  sweep 

swiftly  on 

To  fret  the  frondage  of  the  dream- 
ing hill. 


'ND  ere  the  burning  noon 

shall  faint  and  fail 
A  joy-mad  lark  shall  brave 

the  higher  gale 
To  sing  his  love,  and  jealously 

efface 

The  echoed  mem'ries  of  the  night- 
ingale. 


OWORLDofbeauty!  World 
of  charm!  Wherenaught 
Is  left  to  vagrant  chance,  or 
ever  brought 
To  drear  misuse  by  dearth  of 

tenderness, 

Or  e'er  a  second's  lack  of  loving 
thought. 


QUATRAINS 


OF 


CHRIST 


^  —  ^§ORD,  dost  offend,  this  sim- 

4        pie,  hackneyed  strain 
M    ^  In  pointed  praise  of  that 
^     ^      which  should  be  plain  — 
This    poor  attempt  to    garland 

crumbling  phrase, 
Somewhat  of  charm  and  newness 
to  attain  ? 


OLET  me  take  the  world's 
old  worn-out  tongue 
And  crush  it  to  the  vague 
from  which  it  sprung, 
Then  fashion  from  the  inarticu- 

late, 

New  songs  to  vary  those  that  have 
been  sung. 


is  it  not  the  singer  nor 
the  song, 
But  faith  alone  —  so  Ignor- 

ance's long 
Monotonies  may  vie  with  jeweled 

psalm, 

And  echo  in  Thine  ear  as  clear  and 
strong  ? 


QUATRAINS 

OP 

CHRIST 


*         *          +          *          * 


L  oft  from  out  the  pleas- 
ure  groves  that  lie 
About  the  Vineyard  comes 

the  taunting  cry, 
"  Why  toil  ye  through  the  pleas- 

ant days,  O  Fools  ? 
Hast  ever  yet  beheld  the  Master's 
eye?" 


"H,  SWEET    the    luring 
shade  at  noontide's  heat, 
With  garland-weaving 
Phyllis  near,  and  sweet 
The  lulling  song,  the  heart-com- 

pelling pipe, 

The    rhythmic    twinkling    of   the 
dancers'  feet. 


QUATRAINS 


OF 


CHRIST 


HEY  chant  the   sun,  the 
rose  ;  and  dreamy-eyed, 
Sing  sultans,  beauty,  wine, 

the  pomp  and  pride 
That  ever  tends  on   Pleasure's 

golden  court, 

Till  simple  Faith  seems  very  poor 
beside. 


'ND  soft  as   flower-petals 

Chloe's  breast, 
Its   creamy  charm  allur- 

ingly confessed  — 
Aye,  soft  as  blossoms  in  a  prince's 

keep, 

Slave  -watched,  and    by   Hyblean 
winds  caressed. 


UT  solemn  night  descends 

upon  the  play, 
In  crashing  discord  ends 

the  roundelay  — 
On   Chloe's   chilling   breast  the 

roses  droop, 

And  Phyllis  sorrows  for  the  van- 
ished day. 


QUATRAINS 


night    that    frightens 
idlers  brings  me  peace, 
The    dusk    that    scatters 
them  marks  my  release, 
And  so  throughout  the  day  I  toil 

content, 

Until  the  twilight's  signal  of  sur- 
cease. 


HE  Vineyard  hath  its  heat 

and  hurt,  and  thin 
My  cheeks  with  tears,  but 

what  a  goal  to  win  ! 
And  there  are  Jordan's  banks  all 

soft  with  shade, 

And  Kedron's  flow  to  lave  the  body 
in. 


S   written   so   upon   the 

world's  great  crest, 
A  million  things  in  Nature 

all  attest 
A  perfect  law  of  balance  which 

makes  clear 

That  only  those  who  work  shall 
know  His  rest. 


QUATRAINS 


OF 


CHRIST 


'IN  may  with  gorgeousness 

conceal  its  dole, 
And   gloriously  garb   the 

body's  whole 
In   dream-born  tissues   soft  as 

Circe's  lips, 

But  only  faith  can  ornament  the 
soul. 


FINER    savor    has    the 

beaded  brine 
That  drops  from  brow  to 

lip  than  idle  wine, 
And  dearer  far  the  laurel's  sober 

leaves 

Than  gaily  flaunting  garlands  from 
the  vine. 


'O  HOLD  thy  soul  to  faith- 
fulness, nor  yet 
The  ends  and  purposes  of 

toil  forget, 
But  through  the  day  keep  thou 

thine  eyes  in  love 
On  that  dear  Heaven  where  God's 
throne  is  set. 


QUATRAINS 


CHRIST 


HOR  some,  eyes  hard  upon 
the  little  place 
They  plot  and  potter  in, 
ne'er  raise  a  face, 
Until  Death's  heavy  hand  arouses 

them 

To  cringe  before  an  undreamt,  great- 
er space. 


Pearl  of  Peace  cannot 
be  bought  by  strands 
Of  gems,  or  treasure  gath- 

ered  from  far  lands  — 
Remember  Simon  Magus  failed 

to  buy 

God's  gift  from  Philip  of  the  Blessed 
Hands. 


'ALVATION  has  no  price, 

but  all  must  ask 
Who  would   receive   the 

boon,  nor  wear  a  mask 
To  shield  the  shame  and  evil  in 

their  eyes, 

And   hide   a    face    unbronzed    by 
worthy  task. 


QUATRAINS 


OF 


CHRIST 


E   ARE   what  God   has 

made  us,"  is  the  cry 
Of  greatest  vogue — the 

fool's  excuse,  the  sigh 
Of  those  who  dwell  in  weakness, 

or  the  call 
Of  reckless  souls  who  openly  defy. 


'OD  gave  us  mind  and  will; 

we  are  the  free 
Unfettered  masters  of  our 

destiny, 
And  not  as  He  did  make  us  will 

He  judge, 

But  as  His  Word  has  meant  that 
we  should  be. 


'UCCESS  in  myriad  degree 

and  grade 
Will  gather  there,  but  be 

ye  unafraid, 
For  He  hath  witnessed  all,  and 

will  reward 

Not  by  exploits,  but  by  the  effort 
made. 


m 


QUATRAINS 


OF 


CHRIST 


fevered  throng  infre- 
quently  condoles 
With   effort-filled    defeat, 

yet  aureoles 
Unfair  success,  but  God's  dear 

mercy  makes 

All  well  within  the  Marketplace  of 
Souls, 


'OD'S  mercy !  'Tis  the  level 

where  agree 

The  rich,  the  poor,  the  fet- 
tered and  the  free, 
And  where  the  slave's  entreaty 

rings  as  clear 

As  some  imposing  Sultan's  haughty 
plea. 


'OD'S  marketplace !  Where 
subtly  swift  and  strange 
The  values  of  this  sorry 

world  all  change, 
So  that  the  widow's  mite  will 

buy  far  more 

Than  all  the  wealth  of  Ophir's  gold- 
en range. 


QUATRAINS 


CHRIST 


marvel,  with  it  all  so 
clear  and  straight, 
That  there  be  argument, 

high-pitched  debate. 
Dark  misconceptions  bred  in  an- 

gry hearts, 

And  swirling  mists  of  controversial 
hate. 


some  fear  God's  grace, 
And,  crouching,  cringing, 

fulsomely  abase 
Themselves,  while  others  scorn 

the  bended  knee, 

And  harden  eyes  to  look  Him  in 
the  face. 


MOULDED  suns,  and 
fashioned  seas  and  land, 
He  gave  us  life,  and  with 

His  mighty  hand 
Arched   Heaven   over  all,  then 

sent  His  Son 

To  consummate  the  scheme  His 
love  had  planned. 


QUATRAINS 


OF 


CHRIST 


SON  all  reft  of  princely  cir- 
cumstance, 
Those    glories    that    the 

kingly  lot  enhance, 
And  sent  along  the  way  of  sacri- 
fice, 

A  path  that  took  no  heed  of  change 
or  chance. 


'ND    that    the    humblest 
might  not  miss  the  clue, 
Denied  the  royal  birth  that 

was  His  due, 
Delivered    by  a  Virgin   in   the 

dark, 

Her  bed  of  pain  the  straw  the  cattle 
knew. 


'TRANGE,  then,  that  with 

this  beauty  all  about 
The     shining    path    that 
points  the  one  way  out, 
There  should  be  unrequited  wan- 
derings — 

Allurement  in  the  sterile  fields  of 
Doubt. 


OP 

CHRIST: 


H  AT  midnight  madness  not 

to  understand, 
To  flee  the  happiness  di- 

vinely  planned, 
And  in  some  tangle  mow  a  matted 

head, 

And  boast  escape   from   Mercy's 
reaching  hand. 


'ND   strange  that  sons  of 

Thomas  still  abide 
With  us  on  earth,  and  still 

the  truth  deride, 
Because  they  cannot  grasp  His 

nail-torn  hands 

And  see  the  blood  gush  from  His 
pierced  side. 


O  SHAME  of  shames!   The 
Wise  Men  saw  on  high 
God's  guiding  Star  gleam 
in  the  Eastern  Sky, 
And  straightway  journeyed  forth 

across  the  world, 

With   ne'er   a   question   asked   of 
Where  or  Why. 


QUATRAINS 
CHRIST 


OSTAR,  may  thy  blest  radi- 
ance ever  lend 
Its  glory  to  the  Heavens 
that  o'er  us  bend, 
That  it  may  guide  us  to  that  holy 

place 

Where  Christ  awaits   us  at  our 
Journey's  end. 


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